Die Hard: Assault on Dragoon
by Jdog257
Summary: Sequel to Die Hard: Attack of the Terrorists
1. Chapter 1

Die Hard: Assault on Dragoon

Sequel to Attack of the Terrorists

The jungle was alive with the sound animals. Birds, monkies, elephants, you name it. Sgt. Carmichael made a quick hand motion and his recon team split up into two groups, one going left, and one going right. Of course, he had a team of his own, which consisted of some of his best men. Every man carried with him a high powered machine gun, and enough rounds to last three Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. They also carried with them two back desert eagles, just in case. On top of that a large knife which was useful for cutting through the dense forest. They had come prepared.

"Brigs, scout ahead and see if you can see any signs of the mansion," Carmichael said, "Report back in ten minutes."

"Will do Sergeant," Brigs said and he took his group deep into the forest.

Carmichael turned his attention to Harris, the leader of the other group.

"Harris, I will ask you to do the same. We have no information as to the coordinates of the mansion, and the sooner we find it the better."

Harris nodded and hurried off into the jungle with his men close behind. Carmichael then turned to his men,

"As you might have guessed, we will be doing the same thing as Brigs and Harris. I hope you brought plenty of water, because this jungle is hot enough to kill an elephant."

Carmichael's men stood completely still until Carmichael turned and ran into the jungle.

As soon as the men got into the denser part of the jungle, mosquitoes swarmed all over them, covering them in bites. The men swatted at the mosquitoes occasionally, but did their best to ignore the overwhelming clouds of insects. Suddenly there a blood curling scream sounded off in the jungle.


	2. Chapter 2

Die Hard: Assault on Dragoon

Chapter 2

The one thing that had always been a weakness for Carmichael was innocent people in peril. Several times before he had nearly put his men in danger, because he insisted that they help some innocent bystander. So his men knew that it was only instinct when Carmichael began to run toward the voice. What they found was a scared old woman pointing at a crocodile in the river. The crocodile seem to find some interest in a basket that the woman had brought to the river with her. Carmichael didn't think that the crocodile looked too dangerous and so he calmly walked towards the crocodile, unfortunately telling his men to stay behind. As he got closer to the crocodile, it recoiled a little bit, almost tempting him to come closer. When Carmichael set foot in the river, the woman gasped. Carmichael turned to face the woman. Big mistake. The woman yelled at the crocodile and it jumped up and grabbed Carmichael's leg. On cue five men rushed over to him, shooting at the crocodile. With a mighty tug, the crocodile yanked the screaming Carmichael under the water. The water turned red and bubbled as Carmichael meant his death. But the men continued to shoot at the crocodile, using only water movements as their knowledge of where the croc was. Soon the water stopped churning, but the men still stood there, waded in the river, trying to find the crocodile. A moment later a soldier screamed in pain. The water around his legs turned scarlet and he fell backwards.

"Get out of the water!" one of the men yelled.

Easier said than done.

Even as the soldiers attempted to escape from the alligator, they found themselves falling into the scarlet water. One soldier even had the unpleasant experience of seeing the crocodile open mouth close over his head before he died. One of the men onshore pointed his gun at the woman and yelled,

"Hey lady, calm that son of a bitch of yours!"

The lady just smiled, and waved her frail hands. In a split second a tiger jumped out from behind a cluster of bushes and landed in front of the soldier and swiped away his gun. Another tiger jumped out from behind the soldier. It goes without saying, he never lived to see the next day. The few remaining men nervously pointed their guns at the woman. She smiled, with a wicked look on her face. That was when a loud roaring sound was heard, and a second later, every soldier was engulfed in flame. Once it was sure that they were dead, the fires were put out, and the woman walked slowly into the forest.


	3. Chapter 3

Meanwhile, several thousand miles away, John McClane is doing what he does best. Kicking butt. Apparently some 13 year old cocaine dealer had resisted arrest, and was now attempting to get away in a stolen car. The only problem was that the kid cannot drive. At all. McClane followed him in his own car, doing his best to not loose sight of the kid, but not join the kid in his crazed path of destruction. McClane took out a megaphone, which he preferred over the car radio, and said,

"Listen kid, I know you're scared to death, and you're probably shitting in your pants as of this moment, but please stop. You could kill yourself and innocent people."

This just made the dealer press down harder on the gas pedal. McClane could see that he headed for a crowd of people in the local park. McClane panicked and resorted to desperate measures. He took out his gun and……shot the tires. Had you worried there for a second, didn't I?

The car swerved and began to roll. Still heading right for the group of people. McClane hit the accelerator pedal as hard as he could and drove right into a trash can which was tossed into the air. He turned to the left, and kept his foot on the gas pedal until he was in front of the rolling car. Then he turned sharply to the right and cut off the car from continuing to roll. McClane's car absorbed the impact of the collision, crumpling like fresh wax paper. McClane of course, dived out of the car, and rolled across the grass, suffering a few minor injuries. When he stopped rolling, McClane looked up to see the stolen car, resting on the grass right side up. Smoke was billowing out of the engine and McClane ran over to the car, despite the pain in his left leg that he had acquired jumping out of the car. The kid lay behind the wheel, banged up pretty badly, but still alive. Suddenly the sound of sirens filled the air and McClane looked behind him to see the city ambulance come to a stop by the park perimeter.

"What, where am I," the kid asked. His head lolled from side to side and he opened his eyes.

"Welcome back sleeping beauty," McClane said, "You aren't getting in any cars for a long time."

Later That Day

"McClane, there's something I have to ask of you," the police chief asked.

"I'm listening," replied McClane.

"McClane, several hours ago, we sent a recon team into the jungles of Akaburra, their mission was to find Damian Rebertov. He is a notorious arms dealer who is known for his disregard for human life. He was planning something big. The recon team never made it out alive. Some were found in a river, others burned to death, and one was killed by a tiger."

"So you want to send one man into this, Akaburra place, when a whole team of recon guys got blown away in a minute?"

"Well….yes, basically."

The police chief swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew that McClane would never accept a job like this, why did he have to bring it up in the first place-. The chief's thoughts were interrupted.

"Aw, what the hell. Sure. When do I leave?"

The police chief's jaw nearly touched the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

Ok I'm sorry that it took so long for our hero, John McClane to actually get anywhere, but guess what. Now in this next chapter he will actually be going to Akaburra!

Also just an update, I will be writing more of Jack Sparrow, I have several more stories for die hard, Some for Xmen, and other stuff. I do not have the end in mind right now for Die Hard: Assault on Dragoon, but that is just how I write. Also please review these stories! It helps me out a lot! I plan on getting many fanfics to you in the future. See ya!


	5. Chapter 5

John McClane stared down at the Akaburra jungle from the helicopter.

"Can't see a damn thing," McClane said, shaking his head

"The Akaburra Jungle is known as one of the densest places in the world," said the pilot of the helicopter, "Someone can walk ten feet in front of ya, and you won't be able to tell."

"So for all we know, the people who killed the recon team are waiting for us right now at the landing sight?" McClane asked.

The pilot was silent, a look of dread spreading across his face. The silence was broken when the pilot said loudly.

"Here we are McClane, good luck."

No sooner had McClane jumped out of the helicopter, then pilot shot off into the sky.

"Ya think I scared him?" McClane asked himself out loud.

McClane took a look around. He still couldn't see a damn thing. Just jungle, jungle, jungle, and more and more jungle. McClane sighed and began his journey. He had barely taken a step when he saw a pair of eyes looking at him from behind a bush.

"Hey!" McClane yelled.

The eyes disappeared and McClane could see a figure sprinting off into the distance. Time for a chase. McClane ran after him, his feet hitting the ground rapidly. All too soon, vines on the jungle floor tripped him and he was sent tumbling to the ground. When he got back on his feet, a sharp pain filled his neck. His fingers traced the feeling to its origin and he found a poison dart, stuck in his neck.

"Aw shit," McClane said before he dropped to the ground.

When he woke up he was surrounded by what looked like native peoples. They hovered above him like flies, buzzing in their unknown language, occasionally poking him. When he finally sat up, they all pointed weapons at him. Guns, spears, rocks, knives. And what did he have? A handgun. But it would have to do. But first McClane had to make sure that these natives were actually a threat, after all, it would be senseless and malicious to kill innocent people. That's when he saw the pile of bodies. The bodies of the recon team. They had been murdered, and viciously mutilated. Another pile of severed heads lay in a pile nearby. That was all the reason McClane needed. He grabbed his handgun and fired one shot into the chest of the nearest native. The native fell back, limbs flailing like a ragdoll. Instantly the entire camp came charging at McClane, all three hundred natives.

"Shit," McClane gritted his teeth and started firing his gun as fast as he could. Not one bullet was wasted, but there were still hundreds of natives left. A native began firing a machine gun at McClane, but luckly the aim was bad enough, so McClane had time to return with one shot to the heart. He felt a sharp pain in his leg and he looked around to see a young man stabbing him. McClane instantly doubled over but managed to fire a blind shot behind him which hit its mark. Great, so now McClane had a bad leg and still had to fight a lot more natives. That was when he spotted the oil barrels. A big rig of them, at least three dozen, probably more. McClane smiled. He was relatively close to it, and so he gritted his teeth in pain and ran as fast as his leg would allow, toward the oil barrels. Lucky for McClane, he was in good enough shape that he managed to get behind the oil rig without any natives close behind. He went a good thirty feet behind the oil rig and as the natives started running around it and jumping over it, he fired three bullets into the barrels. A fireball erupted from the barrels, and McClane was forced to hit the ground as the tongue of flame whipped over his head. A shack nearby, that was probably owned by the natives, was instantly set aflame and it too blew up. Every single native was on fire, but McClane looked away. Despite the fact that he was proud that he had accomplished his mission, he regretted killing all of the natives. Ten minutes later, after McClane had called for a helicopter and it arrived, McClane was greeted by the police chief and the pilot. They looked eagerly at him, desperate to ask what had happened.

"Mission Accomplished fellas," McClane smiled and sat down in the helicopter seat. The pilot had turned his back, but the police chief continued to stare, mouth wide open. He began to touch his face, staring in awe at McClane. McClane felt his face, and a sharp stinging sensation jolted through him. He had been slightly burned by the fire, now his whole face probably looked red and black. McClane looked back out of the helicopter, to see the burning native habitat.

"Better get some firemen down there," the pilot said.

McClane smiled, lit up a cigarette, and puffed on it slowly,

"Yippie Kay Yay."


End file.
